ADS Prompts
by Ezqueza
Summary: AskDerynSharp prompts
1. An Unexpected Meeting

It is annoying how things so often play out not according to plan. It is equally annoying how one can reach the wrong conclusion entirely. In a perfect world, 'a word about the conservation of natural species' should_not _ evolve into 'Tomorrow then, I know this lovely Cafe just outside of Hyde Park.'

But, Ernst had to accepted that tomorrow had become today, entirely too quickly, and he was lacking in the proper attire. Any proper jackets he had given to the young prince to tailor during the escapades in New York, and his raggedy suit was…_unacceptable. _

While flipping through the shirts in his closet he wondered why he had cared so much. It was simply a conversation between two adults concerned about natural wildlife in Austria. No need to put on a show.

But with Doctor Nora Darwin Barlow, such was _always _a show. No doubt she would be wrapped up in her ribbons and lace, her abomination sitting elegantly on her shoulder. She would say nothing of his subpar appearance of course, at least not at first, but her brows would rise and the topic would sway to his income, the prospect of raising it, and finally, how horrendous he looked and how she was positively mortified to be seen in his company.

There was no chance in asking the young prince for attire, he was in a similar condition, and would wriggle his eyebrows insufferably at him if he mentioned what the clothes were for. The boy had become a bit of a romantic since his…_agreement _with Miss Sharp.

With a sigh Ernst realized that his only hope was to plea assistance from a neighbor in his apartment building. Mr. Comstock had a similar stature, and his wife was the sort who would be charitable in an old man's state of distress.

It ended up being three jackets that the Comstocks could spare, and Mrs. Comstock would have given him more if not for his hasty escape. Each jacket had the aroma of old books and dusty libraries, but Ernst managed to pick one appropriate for his outing.

The establishment the Lady Boffin had mentioned was no more a café than a hotel was an inn. Looking at the smartly dressed servers with their white gloves and the elegantly drawn menu sitting by the gate, the Count felt as if he might have taken Mrs. Comstock up on her offer for a fancier outfit. As he approached the counter, the maître d' looked up from his desk and glared down his nose.

"A table for two," Volger said, straightening his spine as if to salute.

"I am afraid we are booked sir," He announced, "Might I suggest a later reservation? The lowest wait is about forty minutes."

'_For a café?' _Ernst wondered, aghast. He was about to turn away, wondering how to contact the Lady Boffin when a gloved hand waved to him from inside. Naturally she had arrived first, regardless of what was proper.

"I believe I do have a reservation," Volger answered, "Under the name Barlow?"

The man looked down to flip through some papers, then beckoned to a server.

As Ernst was lead through the elegant array of potted plants, tables, and ornate metal chairs, he did not see a single animal or abomination in the mix. There was a fountain where a few goldfish swam gracefully, but the café was absent of the squaks and chirps he had believed all Darwinist establishments had. The only noise was that of the violins being played in a corner. As he reached the table, he noted the Lady Boffin's two most prized companions, her loris and her Thylacine, were absent as well. She gave him a slight smile and thanked the waiter graciously.

"So good of you to come," Nora said, looking down at her paper menu, "And well dressed, if I might add."

"I manage," he said simply, looking down at his own menu.

"It is so rare to see you and young Mr. Hohenburg in appropriate attire, I have debated raising your wages." She flipped the menu back onto the table, "Would you say your current salary is sufficient? Can you afford proper housing? Food?"

If Ernst was the sort to blush, those words might have done it.

"Might I remind you of the purpose of this meeting?" he asked, placing his own menu on the table as he did so.

"But of course," she smiled, "But I _am _your employer, and your livelihood is amongst my interests."

"Naturally," the Count responded, "But I have reason to believe that the last attack on Austrian soil has left some…unfortunate results."

The Lady Boffin raised an eyebrow.

"What results exactly, Count?"

Volger straightened, the argument he had planned last night finally of use. "The problem lies with those bats, those metal-eating-"

"Flechette bats," Doctor Barlow corrected.

"Yes, Flechette bats," Volger grimaced at the thought of them, "As you well know Darwinism is a messier form of weaponry, and thus, there are often repercussions that you may not foresee. The fact of the matter is that while most of the bats you send out make their way back to the airships, a great deal do not get the signal, or are lost to the winds, and scatter into nearby forests."

The Lady Boffin nodded.

"Then proceed to interbreed with the natural inhabitants, creating hybrids that may prove harmful to the species."

"Precisely." Ernst agreed, "And these bats will eventually find their way to agricultural machines and create problems for farmers as well."

For a moment Doctor Barlow was silent, "But of course this a problem," she finally announced, "But how do you suppose we fix it?"

The Wild Count had thought of this as well. "It seems a simple solution, keep the bats from flying any lower than a certain altitude."

"Ah but land machines can attack an air beast just as effectively as an aero plane," The Boffin said, "And one of the greatest weapons an air beast possesses is the Flechette bat."

Volger admitted he had not thought of that, but was saved by the appearance of a waiter, asking for their order. Having not looked over the menu himself, Volger looked to the Lady Boffin.

"A pot of earl grey," she said simply, "And perhaps a tray of cakes," she turned to Volger, "Or would you prefer sandwiches?"

"I have no preference," Volger remarked.

"Cakes it is then," Doctor Barlow said cheerfully. A bit _too _cheerful, Ernst noted.

When the waiter left, the Lady Boffin caught the Count's eye. She raised her hands in a mock surrender.

"I admit to my sweet tooth, if that is what you are smirking about," she said.

Ernst realized that he was indeed smirking.

"We all have our guilty pleasures," he admitted.

The Lady Boffin's face lit up.

"Implying that you are under the influence of one as well?" The woman leaned back, staring down her nose at him with a playful smile on her lips.

Count Ernst Volger _should _have said something along the lines of 'we should get back on topic, but he felt his own lips curl into a bashful smile.

"Cats," he said simply, "Or to be more precise, infant cats."

For a moment the Lady Boffin's face remained unchanged, as if she had assumed such a thing all along, but then her composure broke and she let out a laugh, pressing her laced fingers to her lips in a futile attempt to school herself.

Volger raised an eyebrow, still smiling, "Does my appreciation for felines amuse you?" He asked.

"Of course not," Doctor Barlow said, her face falling back into its indifferent expression, "Simply unexpected."

Again they were interrupted by the arrival of their food. The waiter set two beautifully designed cups on the table along with a simple white pot and a three-layer tray stacked with colorful pastries.

"Would you consider ownership of a cat now that you aren't gallivanting across Europe?" she asked as she delicately plucked a raspberry tart from the tray.

"I suppose so," Ernst chuckled, helping himself to a chocolate biscuit, "At the moment I could use the company."

"And here I thought my company was enough," The Lady Boffin sighed, "Might I grow ears and a tail to better suit you?"

By this point Volger did not even try to conceal his amusement. The thought brought up quite an image in his head.

"Care to elaborate what you find so amusing?" Doctor Barlow took a sip of her tea.

"Only the idea of you as a cat," he admitted, "I'm sure you would be a most insufferable creature.

Again the woman laughed.

"I'm sure I would," she said.

The outing continued this way. The Doctor insisted upon being called 'Nora' and in return the Count allowed himself to be addressed as 'Ernst'. Once the teapot had been refilled and emptied, and the tray left bare, the two agreed that such outings were a pleasant relief from the daily turmoil of London politics. After settling the time for their meeting the following week, Ernst offered to take his companion back to her apartments, an offer Nora graciously accepted. The topic of flechette bats in the wilderness of Austria was not brought up again for the remainder of the evening.


	2. A Super Soldier

**Anonymous asked: Writing Prompt: Deryn's Reaction to Fabricated Human Soldiers**

Sickness swept though Deryn's gut, but she couldn't look away from the pile of flesh in the glass tank before her.

"Quite Impressive," the 'Boffin' said proudly, tilting his bowler up, "Took us weeks to get a living one, and he isn't perfect, but we'll having a working one yet!"

The Lady Boffin coughed into her glove. Deryn was all at once furious at the woman for looking so…_diplomatic._

"Quite a fine…_example," _Doctor Barlow said, "But what caused your fabricators to_do _such a thing."

A crack of disgust managed to break through at the end of her sentence, like a striking snake.

"Well we've been thinking, beasties are all fine and good but it's the _men _that do the piloting, so the boys up in the labs decided, 'why the hell not?' and we started work on this beauty."

The fab looked up at them then, reaching a hand to its creators, its wrinkled flesh leaving sweat marks on the glass. Hideous. The swollen lips managed moved, as if to imitate speech.

"But of course, we will have to gas him with the others," The Boffin took off his hat, "Just wanted to show you British how we've mastered your old Darwin's work!"

The urge to vomit welled up in Deryn's gut, but she was still fascinated by the poor creature in the tank. He was neither man or beastie, an ungraceful splice that was unstable and pitiful. As if in a trance, Deryn approached the tank and put her palm up to the beastie's. It smiled at her, its fat lips mouthing more words.

"Why?" Deryn said in a voice that shook, "What's wrong with it? Why do you need to gas it?"

"He isn't the smartest," the Boffin said, fingering his beard, "At least the unstable ones could string together a sentence. Old Jackal here can only repeat things."

There was intelligence in the beastie's eyes, a sad kind of hopelessness that burned under its smile. Did it know what was going to happen? Was it afraid? Did it hate or love its creators for what they had done to him?

"Jackal," Deryn repeated, her fingers still touching the glass, "You _named _it?"

A woman coughed from behind them. The Boffin smiled.

"Was Sheila's idea," he announced, beckoning for the woman to come forward, "We took the embryo cells from her and her husband after all, so it felt only right to let her name it."

Deryn glare was wasted on the woman, who only looked blankly ahead at the abomination. It was her barking _son._

"You seem rather interested, Mr. Sharp," The Boffin said, "Would you like to say hello?"

Deryn jumped away from the glass as if it had burned her. But then took another look at the beastie. It's smile sagged, as if it knew of her disgust. Guilt washed through her.

"No," she said defiantly, never taking her eyes off of the fab.

"A pity," the boffin shrugged, "But so kind of you to visit. Now if you excuse me, we are expecting the second of the batch in a few hours. Really must be on my way."

The Lady Boffin steered Deryn away by the shoulders.

"Come now Mr. Sharp," she said softly.

Deryn at least managed to make it outside before vomiting. The sick was followed by heaving sobs that racked her body. She trembled even as the Lady Boffin lead her into the privacy of the car, but everyone saw. Deryn didn't care. She was haunted, disgusted, and sadder than she had been in a while. What made it worse was the idea that they were making _more._

The sobs kept coming the entire ride back to the hotel, and when the staff opened the car doors, Deryn raced out to wretch again. They looked in horror at the mess, but said nothing.

"Get me a messenger tern immediately," The lady Boffin said to a passing bellman, "We're cutting ties with America."


	3. A Baby

**Anonymous asked: Writing prompt!: Alek dealing with beasties giving birth(again!)!**

"Preparing for a _birth_?" Alek said, dropping the fork he held with a clatter, "But I thought the lorises hatched from eggs?"

Deryn rolled her eyes, princes could be dead annoying with their daft ideas, even retired ones.

"Of course they don't you ninny," She said, flicking the latch of the nursery wing's door, "Lorises are _mammals_, like you or me. Live birth, just like your Ma did with you."

Alek sniffed indignantly.

"I know that," he said, "But Bovril-_the lorises_ hatched out of eggs, did they not?"

Deryn turned to look at him, had he been blind and deaf to all these months monitoring beasties at the Zoological Society? Or was he being daft on purpose?

"Aye Alek, _all _beasties come from eggs first," She swung the big door open, getting a wave of smelly heat to the face, "But once they are functional we just let nature take its course."

The boy shivered, as if even this aspect of Darwinism disturbed him, or perhaps it was just the stench.

The London Zoo had a massive nursery for all the wee beasties born in captivity. There was always a bustling of activity in this wing. The room was a buzz with the weighing of young cubs, incubating eggs of the birds and reptiles, and, most recently, spying on a pregnant perspicacious loris.

Deryn supposed it was just lucky that the only other loris to survive was female. At first it seemed inhumane to force Bovril to make a mate out of the other loris, them acting so human in their speech and reasoning, but at the end of the day beasties were beasties, and since the Germans murdered the other eggs, more lorises had to be made.

Bovril had made a father of himself, and as the first of her kind to reproduce, the entire Zoo was waiting on the Lady Boffin's loris as if she were some sort of princess. She definitely _acted _like a princess, sharing her opinion of the doctors who measured and fed her. "Idiot," and "Imbecile," seemed to be her favorites, and the occasional swear when picked up without warning. Bovril, of course, was not allowed in the nursery, its germs supposedly defiling the other infants. Deryn wondered if the beastie wished he could be there for his mate when birthing their offspring, but of course the idea was ridiculous.

"_Mr. _Sharp!" the female Loris called out to Deryn as they approached. Deryn resisted the urge to make a rude gesture. Even with all the Boffins treating this stuck up fuzzball like a princess, it gave the beastie no right to be so smug. Still, when the loris stuck out her little hands, Deryn extended an arm to let her climb aboard.

"Oh no," a nearby Boffin, Doctor Grizwalde, said, flapping his hands at Deryn's friendliness, "That wont do, it simply wont _do." _He repeated like a barking parrot.

"And why in blazes not?" Deryn asked, as a primate, the loris was _meant _to climb things, even when pregnant.

"This is no ordinary chimpanzee to be played with, this is the first reproduction of an entire _species." _The man said in his dull drawl.

He plopped the indignant loris back into her pen, all filled with linens and heaters. Dead fancy, this birthing business. Back home, old Daisy would just have her kittens under the sofa. As the loris cursed and rolled over, Alek strode forward to stroke the beastie's head. Perhaps he had a soft spot for these particular fabs, Deryn supposed, and felt herself grin. He was there for the birth of the first perspicacious loris, and here he was again, witnessing the third. This would of course be the only time they would see the Loris until the pregnancy was completed, the Lady Boffin having retired her project to Professor Grizwalde.

The first month old Grizwalde was assigned to the hatcheries for the arachnid parachute weavers. While he said his goodbyes to the staff, there was no suggestion of foul play, but rumor had it he had been slipping the wrong type of pills into the beastie's diet, causing her to lose hairs on her rump. Once again, Doctor Barlow was assigned to the wellbeing of the lorises, and her two henchmen were reacquainted with the pregnant loris the staff had nicknamed Charlotte. Deryn noticed that Alek took up a personal responsibility over her, as if she were not an 'ungodly abomination,' and his own flesh and blood giving birth to a grandson. It was Alek who cleaned her pen, Alek who took her temperatures, and Alek who dragged Deryn into night watches, _without _the intent of snogging until sunrise.

The second month Deryn thought the boy had gone mad. He had begun to speak directly to Charlotte, more so than he had ever done to Bovril to Deryn's knowledge. He asked her how she felt, if she needed anything, and even chuckled at her attitude when she insulted him, or bit his fingers.

The third and fourth months Alek brought a violin into the nursery. Deryn had never taken him for much of a musician, but she supposed anyone held surprises. She was not surprised. He was dead awful with the fiddle. But the loris seemed to enjoy it, closing her eyes and mimicking the halting harsh plucks of strings. When asked about the practice, Alek merely stated that he thought she needed the company.

Luckily, Deryn had talked him out of this madness by the fifth month. Still he visited Charlotte, and Deryn was beginning to feel a bit left out. Why did he care all of a sudden about some daft beastie's pregnancy? He had a lass with him _right barking now_ and all he cared about was teaching the loris Latin. Deryn stopped accompanying him to the nursery by the end of the seventh month.

The new lorises would be coming at any time. There would be two, by the looks of it, their sexes unknown. Alek brought back his fiddle, without a disgruntled Deryn to be embarrassed for him. He plucked simple tunes to the Loris and she sang along until one say, she stopped. Her words were simple.

"Barking Spiders!"

And just like that a parade of zoologists crowded Charlotte's little pen, preparing for the birth. Alek was shooed from the room, Deryn saw him for the first time in what felt like days.

"Didn't let daddy into the birthing room?" She teased, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice, "Don't be too disappointed, this sort of thing is best left to Boffins."

Alek only looked at his hands, his face blank. Was the bumrag even _listening _to her?

"Oi, _dumkopf!_" she said, sliding next to him on the bench outside the nursery, "Lighten up."

Not looking at her, Alek lifted himself and began to pace. _Barking Princes…_Deryn thought sourly, letting her anger get the better of her. Why did he care so much about Charlotte? The barking _loris? _For seven barking months he had obsessed over that barking beastie as if they were married. Deryn gave up, slapping her knees with her fists and swinging to her feet.

"I'll be at the flat," she announced to his deaf ears, and swept away.

Why did it hurt so much? Was she really getting jealous of a barking perspicacious loris? As she slid into bed, she tried not to think about the celebration that must be going on back at work. The babies would be born by now, she supposed, and Alek was probably begging to hold one. Just as the cold smirk crossed her face, she heard the door slam from the other room. Perhaps the birth had happened sooner than she thought.

As Alek rushed into their joint bedroom he looked about, as if afraid she wasn't there. So _now _he barking noticed.

"Deryn?" he sighed when he caught sight of her.

"Aye, its me," She grumbled, shifting to make a spot for him.

"I hadn't noticed you had left," Alek said, his eyes wide with concern, "Why would you leave without me?"

_Because you care more about some barking primate than you do your own lass._

"I just felt a bit tired is all."

Alek cupped her face and kissed her. _Really _kissed her, like he hadn't done in weeks.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I was lost in thought."

Deryn raised an eyebrow.

"For seven barking months?" she said defiantly.

Alek looked at her, astounded, then his face softened into a blush.

"Ah yes," he admitted, "I have been quite the ninny."

They sat in silence for a time. All of Deryn's bitterness keeping her lips tightly shut, and far away from Alek's.

"I suppose it was a bit odd to bring in the violin," Alek offered, looking at her stony expression helplessly.

"Aye. You were barking ridiculous." Deryn said flatly, keeping her eyes away from his face.

"Yes," Alek sighed, laying back, "I was…" be began, then trailed off.

Deryn turned to look at him, her eyebrow cocked.

"You were?" she asked.

Alek cursed and sat up, his face bright red.

"Exercising an idea." He muttered.

Tilting her chin, Deryn felt a tug on her lips, the dark lump of anger in her belly tricking away.

"I…know its odd," Alek continued, "But I… I wanted to _think…"_

He groaned.

"You really are going to make me spit it out, aren't you?"

Deryn nodded, feeling an old elation whenever she made fun of him.

"I was," he began, "It felt like I was practicing. I kept imagining that the loris want a loris…but…" he coughed and looked away.

"Someone else?" Deryn said, realizing all at once his mania.

"Someday…"Alek whispered, "Someday I want that to be you. Or rather, I want to be_with _you when…or _if _I suppose, it happens."

He grabbed her middle like a child hugging its ma.

"I pretended that the loris was you, that it was ours…" he was choking the words out, sounding perfectly ridiculous. Deryn took pity.

She put a finger to his lips.

"Maybe," she said softly, "But no violins."

With that she kissed him, pushing him back onto the bed. And for the night they lay there, perfectly tangled in each other for the first time in a while, just like the life threads of something new and unnatural, making life in the most natural way of all.


End file.
